


That Damn Balaclava

by teamfreelovecas



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Based off of other fic, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1890807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamfreelovecas/pseuds/teamfreelovecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Task Force 141 team gets a few days off, most of them do normal things, like read or get extra sleep. Though Roach, he just gets very bad idea's that end up actually better than he thought. What happens when he decided to take Ghost's balaclava.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Damn Balaclava

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic, though not fully. I got this prompt from another fanfic I really like and I wanted to try writing one of my own. The time setting is before the mission in the Favela.

It was just as any other day, the team recently back from another simple mission gathering Intel of sorts and rescuing hostages. Nothing much, really. Currently the soldiers were either eating in the cafeteria, getting as much sleep as possible before their next exhausting objective or lounging in the rec room.

Ghost was smart enough to choose a book to read while Archer and Toad salvaged a board game together to keep busy. Though Roach, he was slumped against the couch completely bored out of his mind when a, most likely bad, idea comes to. He glances at the masked lieutenant and a smirk forms across his mouth.

“Hey, Ghost?”

He receives a grunt in return. Taking that as he was listening, he continues.

“You should take that damn balaclava off.”

The snort Ghost replies with just about practically says a fat no.

“ _C’mon_ ,” Roach whines, “I've been on this team for, what, almost a year and I have never even seen what color eyes you have, let alone your face.”

At this, the Brit looks up and despite the mask you could still basically see the sarcastic “yeah right, like I’m gunna let you see.” written all over his face.

Roach raises his hands as Ghost begins to go back reading again. “Alright, alright, but you can’t get _too_  mad at what I’m about to do.”

Still, not looking up Ghost says with his thick British accent, “No promises, but what do you think you’ll be do-“

Ghost couldn't finish before Roach lept up, swiped his hand and swiftly stole the mask, knocking the red tinted sunglasses off. Before the Brit could even react, he tore off, fumbling between Archer and Toad all but tossing their board game to the ground.

Ghost sat there stunned for a good few seconds to take in what happened, when it washed over, anger flooded his face.

“You better come back here you little twat!” Ghost nearly screamed to Roach before ripping away after him. For Archer and Toad, they let out an exasperated sigh because Ghost managed to step on their game, ruining it even more.

So there they were, Roach running desperately and Ghost chasing after through the hallways, the cafeteria while managing to spill Royce’s drink, and back through the rec room. They ran and ran, somehow not shorting of breath or pausing slightly.

Heads usually turned as the swept by but when the passed Captain Mactavish, all he said was, "Ghost, don't brutally beat him, we have a mission in a few days!"

He received a breathy yell in return.

Roach tore his way past the Rec room again only this time, he took a left to the West wing of the base.

“I swear to god Roach, I will murder you if you do not give that back!”

His efforts were useless since the American only sped up, giggling down the hallway. Until he realized what hallway he was down. The West wing had most of the supplies and stores, therefore meaning it ended.

Roach reached the end of the hallway and glanced behind him, his eyes widening. “Oh god,” The Brit was running straight towards him and he did the only thing he could think of. Roach turned left and entered a supply closet full of cleaning disinfectants.

Roach tried his best to keep quiet, but the whole situation was kind of hilarious. Because, well, who would imagine running around the halls with a very angry Lieutenant on your trail only to hide in a supply closet. And because you took his mask that he now stored under his shirt.

The thumping of his footsteps came very close and then stopped altogether. _Fuck_ was all Roach could think while still containing his laughter. The closet door was ripped open, surprisingly not off its hinges and light flooded in. Hands found their way to his chest and shoved him upwards and into the hallway. When Roach came to and lowered his arms from his face, fear of Ghost punching him, he was frozen in spot. There was Ghost’s face.

Roach’s eyes widened as he took in his friends face. He had a strong jawline, sharp nose and high cheekbones, though there was large scarring across the left side of his face all splayed out upon smooth, pale skin that hid under that mask for so long. Ghost’s hair was a deep dark brown color; like that one weird angel from this show called Not Natural, or was it Supernatural? It was stuck up all over the place since Roach basically tore the balaclava off. But really, that could only add. The eyes were the best, almost a golden- like hazel all melted together as honey.

A large grunt and a dissatisfied look from Ghost caused him to snap back. Roach then realized that he had been staring and a light blush bloomed across his cheeks.

“I- uhm, yo- you’re still not getting you’re balaclava back.”

The raised eyebrow Ghost gave him told him otherwise.

Roach, recovered, gave a crooked smile before stating, “If you can even find it, that is.”

“Oh, I can find it.”

All of a sudden, the Lieutenant was pushing the latter up against the wall and the next thing Roach knew, chapped, yet soft lips were upon his own. The American couldn’t even comprehend what was happening, just that he liked it. Instantly he relaxed against Ghost, closing his eyes and actually kissing back. His mind was fumbled and blurry, his thoughts contorted into nothing else than the fact that the guy, target to his stupid little affection, was _kissing_ him.

Ghost's hands began to run along the side of his body, one resting at the hip and the other settled in his hair, nails gently biting in Roach's scalp. The Sergeant tilted his head to a better angle, deepening the kiss and opening his mouth to Ghost's willing tongue. The kiss wasn’t rushed so much as it was deep and hard, their mouths moving in sync as if they had always done this. The latter’s hand ghosted up into the American’s shirt and across his chest. The next thing he knew, the soft lips pulled away and the warmth retreated.

There was Ghost, looking oh so pleased with himself as he held up his mask and grinning like a bastard.

Roach was still leaning his back up against the wall, his lips wet and red and looking like he just rolled out of bed.

“Looks like I got it back.”

The Sergeant stood there shocked, breathing heavily while staring at Ghost with widened eyes. He let out a breathy laugh, lowering and shaking his head slowly.

“I can’t believe you.”

Ghost quirked an eyebrow, smirking.

“Fuck you.” Roach murmured despite the huge grin on his face.

Next thing he knew, Roach was the one backing Ghost into the wall. He did it ever so slowly, in sync with the latter’s footsteps until he heard the thump of him hitting the wall. The Brit’s hands were already coming up, balaclava long forgotten, and resting along Roach’s back while the American’s forearms rested against the wall. They stood there for a few seconds, just looking into each other’s eyes and breathing in each other’s breath.

“God, you have beautiful eyes.” Roach breathed out.

Ghost gave a small grin, “Beautiful, eh?”

Roach only replied by pushing his lips against the other’s, slow and deep and meaningful. The Lieutenant kept his lips moving, pressing his tongue lightly against Roach’s lips, asking for permission. He all but granted it by shoving his own tongue as well, tilting his head more. Their hands began to roam free; Ghost’s once again residing in his soft dusty brown hair whilst the Sergeant’s kept at the wall. He began to wedge his leg between Ghost’s. He all but moaned and at the same time bit down gently on Roach’s bottom lip causing him to make a loud moan as well. Swiftly, the American brought a hand down to Ghost’s thigh, helping him lift it up against his own and bringing his other hand to cup the latter’s face in his hand.

For several minutes they stayed like this, drinking in each other as fast as possible, dearly hoping no one would come and catch them by accident. Although, it was late at night, so the chances were small.

Eventually, they broke off from each other, taking in deep breaths and struggling not to shove their lips to the others once more. Their mouths were slick with spit and red, hair ruffled all over the place and cheeks completely flushed. They rested their foreheads against the latter’s, breathing in.

“Well you’re something fierce, aren't ya?” Ghost broke the silence with a smile.

A huge grin formed on Roach’s mouth as he shook his head against Ghost’s. “You’re a prick.”

“Yeah but, I’m your prick.”


End file.
